It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind,

Man's Body Is Faulty, His Mind Untrustworthy, But His Imagination Has Made Him Remarkable.

Quinquireme Of Nineveh From Distant Ophir, Rowing Home To Haven In Sunny Palestine, With A Cargo Of Ivory, And Apes And Peacocks, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, And Sweet White Wine.

Each One Could Be A Jesus Mild, Each One Has Been A Little Child, A Little Child With Laughing Look, A Lovely White Unwritten Book; A Book That God Will Take, My Friend, As Each Goes Out At Journey's End.

Men In A Ship Are Always Looking Up, And Men Ashore Are Usually Looking Down.

In The Power And Splendor Of The Universe, Inspiration Waits For The Millions To Come. Man Has Only To Strive For It. Poems Greater Than The Iliad, Plays Greater Than Macbeth, Stories More Engaging Than Don Quixote Await Their Seeker And Finder.